Once Upon a Time

by Luna Doerr

  My eyes widen in alarm.

  “Don’t worry. Alaric won’t write that into the book. He’s too much of a romantic for that. In any case, you’re the polar opposite of Annabeth. She damn near traumatized him last time. I think that’s why he chose someone like you this time around.”

  “Sorry. I guess that’s less fun for you.”

  Sim winks at me. “No worries. There’s always the next book, right?”

  The next book. I don’t want to think about the next book, when Alaric will be working with another woman. That shouldn’t bother me—that was part of the deal—but it does.

  “Are you hungry?” Sim asks again. “I made some sandwiches.” He tosses the manuscript pages back onto the desk. “You should take a break. I never work when Alaric’s not here.” He winks at me again and heads for the kitchen.

  26

  Alaric

  I look at the alarm clock in the hotel room. It’s midnight here in California, which means it’s three in the morning on the east coast. I shouldn’t call her. But I have to know. Sim is my best friend but when it comes to women, I don’t trust him further than I can throw him.

  And I can’t even pick up Sim, let alone throw him.

  I tap her name on my phone and listen to it ring on the other end. It rolls over to voice mail

  Fuck it all to hell.

  I’ll try one more time, then give up. Or give in. One of the two. Kristin had asked me once, years ago, what I was going to do when I meet a woman I actually care for. I laughed it off at the time. I wasn’t planning on ever caring for a woman, not in the permanent-build-a-life-together way.

  I scrub my hand over my face. My sister is a bit of a romantic. I’m not, despite my profession.

  Romance is utterly fictional to me.

  Except—damn it all—I have gone and met a woman I’m beginning to care for. Or at least a woman I can’t stand to see naked with my best friend. And I had hired her to do exactly that: get naked with Sim.

  On the one hand, it was a stroke of good luck for this last-minute trip to arise. After watching Sim fuck Caterine’s face yesterday, I need a break, need some space to get my head together. I had wanted her pretty lips on my cock, not Sim’s. At least she hadn’t swallowed but even so, wiping another man’s semen off her skin had made me want to kill something.

  Of course, on the other hand, the last-minute trip means Caterine is alone in Maine with Sim. And who knows what’s going on there right now? I’d given Sim permission to take her out to dinner, show her around town, but give Sim an inch and he’ll take a mile. Or five hundred.

  I tap her name on my phone again and wait, holding my breath. Please pick up. Please.

  If I believed in God, I’d pray.

  “Hello?”

  I suck in a deep breath of air at the sound of her voice.

  “Caterine.”

  “Alaric?” A long pause. “What time is it? Where are you?”

  “It’s midnight here in California.”

  “Is everything okay?”

  I both hate and love the worry I’m hearing in her voice.

  “Everything’s fine.” As long as Sim isn’t in the room with you. I listen carefully for background noises.

  “Because it’s three in the morning here.”

  I detect a tiny note of exasperation in her voice now.

  “How was dinner? Did Sim take you out?”

  “Yes. It was fine. A nice seafood place.”

  “Plenty of those in Maine.” I chuckle. “Did you do anything afterward?”

  “Walked around Bar Harbor. Did a little shopping.”

  “What did you buy?”

  “A tee shirt for Zoe. Some ice cream.”

  An image of Caterine licking an ice cream cone, her soft pink tongue swirling around it, floats to the surface of my mind. Instantly I am hard. I want her swirling that tongue around the head of my cock.

  “Alaric?”

  “Yes, sweetheart?”

  Long pause there. Very long pause.

  “You’re checking up on us, aren’t you?”

  Busted.

  “I’m not interested in Sim.”

  “That doesn’t mean he’s not interested in you.”

  “I don’t believe he is. It sounds like I don’t compare favorably with Annabeth.”

  I suck in my breath. Why is Sim talking to her about Annabeth?

  “Did she show this time?”

  “Yes. She did.”

  “Oh. Good.”

  “Well, good for readers. Pain in the ass for me.”

  I hear a tiny giggle on the other end. God, I want to make her giggle, make her laugh, make her smile.

  “Caterine, Annabeth has nothing on you. You are a million times more beautiful than she is. And a million times more pleasant to be around.”

  “But not as experienced.”

  “Annabeth is the village bicycle.”

  “What does that mean?”

  “You’ve never heard that saying? The village bicycle, everyone’s taken a ride on it.”

  “Oh.”

  “I like that you’re not experienced, Caterine. And, yes, I am checking up on you. I don’t want Sim giving you any more experience than is necessary.”

  “You could have called him.”

  “Yes, I could have. But he would have lied to me and said you were in his bed. And I don’t particularly want to hear his voice.”

  “You want to hear mine?”

  “I do.” I listen to her faint breathing on the line. “Did you mean what you said yesterday? That you were trying to think about me when you were with Sim?”

  “Yes. I mean, I know I’m not supposed to think about you when we’re working … or ever, I guess. I know we’re all just working here.”

  “I was thinking about you sucking me off, too, Caterine. I never thought about that with Annabeth.”

  “So she’s not there with you right now?”

  “God, no. She’s probably in some stranger’s hotel room. Don’t tell Sim that, though.”

  “I did the proofreading for you today.”

  “All of it?”

  “Most of it. I still have about twenty pages left to do tomorrow.”

  “Thank you, Caterine. What did you think?”

  “I found some typos and missing words. I marked up a hard copy for you.”

  “I meant what did you think of the story?”

  “Oh. It’s good, I guess.”

  “Just good?”

  “Well, I don’t read a lot of romance. So I’m probably not the best judge.”

  I smile at her efforts to backtrack.

  “You can be honest with me, Caterine. In fact, I wish you would.”

  I can practically hear her thinking, hear her measuring out her words. I like that about her, that she thinks carefully before speaking. It’s a nice change after an evening with Annabeth, who has no filter whatsoever on her trashy mouth. I doubt anyone has ever been embarrassed by Caterine.

  “I thought romances were written from the female character’s point of view. And yours is …”

  “Mostly from Charles’ point of view. I write all my books that way.”

  “I guess I was expecting to see more of Erica’s side of the story. But maybe that’s just because I’m playing her. I’ve been seeing the scenes through her eyes so I guess maybe I was expecting to see that in the book, too. But it’s your book, of course.”

  “What do you see as Erica’s side of the story?”

  “She wants a real marriage with her husband. She doesn’t care about his injuries. He’s sexy to her anyway, but she feels rejected by him. Can you tell me what happens in the rest of the book?”

  “Well it ends happily since it’s a romance. It’s a requirement of the genre. But I don’t plot my books ahead of time. So I don’t know how they’re going to get to that happy ending until they get there.”

  27

  Alaric

  “Miss me?”

  I watch as
Caterine swings around in her chair. I am happy to find her in my office and not in Sim’s arms. She’d said she wasn’t interested in Sim, but Sim can be pretty persuasive where women are concerned.

  “You’re back.”

  God, her smile could melt a glacier.

  “Got back late last night. I slept in a little.” I rub my unshaven chin.

  “Probably a good idea. Are you working today?” She stacks up the pages of my manuscript, now riddled with red ink.

  “Let me see those.” I lift the pages from her hands. “What a mess.”

  “There’s this thing called spell-check.”

  Her eyes twinkle with mirth and I can’t help it. I lean in and kiss her. Just a quick kiss, too quick for her to even kiss me back—or decide not to. I don’t want to know whether she would or not at the moment. I can’t handle rejection before lunch time.

  “There’s also this thing called an assistant,” I answer.

  I settle in behind my desk and turn on the computer. I glance back over at her. She’s wearing one of Erica’s dresses, the tops of her breasts round and white above the bodice.

  Fuck me.

  I’m never attracted to my assistants. That’s why I use Sim. Sim is attracted to anything that moves and has a vagina.

  I close my eyes. It’s just because I’m infatuated with Erica, with my own character. That has to be the explanation.

  “Alaric?”

  I open my eyes. “Yes?” Her face is washed with hesitation. She inclines her pretty head toward me.

  “You didn’t have Sim and I act out the last scene you wrote. The one where Charles imagines Erica undressing for him.”

  “No. I didn’t need to see that.” Didn’t need to see Sim seeing that.

  She stands and walks toward me, squeezes her way between my desk and the chair. I scoot back an inch.

  “You said the details are important to you.”

  “They are, Caterine.”

  Her eyes watch me carefully as her fingers begin to slowly unbutton her bodice.

  “Caterine, what are you—”

  “Shh. Charles wants to see what his wife looks like.”

  I’m hard before she undoes the last button and slides the fabric off her shoulders. Fuck. She is beautiful. Her breasts are as gorgeous as I remember them from the hotel. Her nipples are hard and pink and aching for my touch.

  I reach out and pinch each one lightly, then roll them between my thumb and forefinger. Her eyes are hooded already. She wants this, wants my hands on her.

  My hands, not Sim’s.

  She pushes the fabric of the dress down over her slender hips and steps out of it. I kick the dress away as I drink her in. Her flat stomach, the points of her hipbones, the pale shadow of hair that points the way to the bare skin between her legs. I run my finger through her folds. She is wet already. Wet for me.

  “I need to see you.”

  I’m not sure whether I’m talking to Caterine or Erica. Or maybe both. I gently push her back toward the desk, push the laptop off to the side, sweep the pile of manuscript pages to the floor where they scatter every which way. She can put them back together later. It’ll give me an excuse to keep her in the office longer.

  I lift her hips onto the desk and push her legs open. She lays back across the mahogany, and I try not to think of the last time she was sprawled across his desk, with Sim ramming his big dick into her. This isn’t going to be anything like that.

  I stare between her legs for several minutes, just memorizing the color of her lips, the way her wetness glistens. My mouth waters at the sight. But Charles doesn’t do that in this scene. He doesn’t taste her.

  I could rewrite the scene. I could rewrite every scene to have Charles devouring Erica’s sweet, sweet pussy.

  “Do you like what you see, my lord?”

  I spread her open like a flower. “Very much so.”

  “This is yours, my lord.”

  Fuck yes, this is mine. Not Sim’s. Erica will never belong to Sim. I dip my thumb into her nectar, then circle it over her clit. Her hips strain upward.

  “Do you want me to make you come?” I continue to thumb her nub.

  “Yes. Make me come. Like you did before.”

  My cock jumps at her words. This is Caterine speaking, remembering our one night in the hotel.

  “I will, and I’ll watch you like I did before. Your face is so beautiful when you come, Caterine.”

  She’s breathing heavily now, rocking her clitoris against my thumb. I ease off a little.

  “Not too fast,” I say. “I want you to feel every second of this.”

  I run the back of my knuckles over her soft folds, making her whimper.

  “Please, Alaric. Let me come.”

  “Open your eyes and watch me do this.”

  Her eyes are shadowed in lust and greed for the orgasm I’m holding just out of her reach. I want to make her feel so good, better than any man has ever made her feel. Better than Sim has.

  “Please,” she begs again.

  I slip a finger inside her, stroking her wall. She moans. Her eyelids are heavy but she keeps her gaze locked on me. I add another finger and gently fuck her while I stroke her clit with my other hand. My thumb teases her, brings her to the brink over and over. She’s pushing herself onto my fingers harder now. Her eyes shine with desperate tears.

  I take pity on her.

  “I’m going to make you come so hard, Caterine.” I plunge my fingers deeper into her.

  That’s all it takes for her to tumble over into a screaming orgasm, her pussy clenching my fingers, her hips thrusting at my thumb. And then she’s limp, draped over my desk. My cock throbs with need. I want to fuck her. I want her to suck me off like she did in the hotel.

  But if she does, it will all be over. I’ll need to have her every day. I’ll never get any writing done. Fuck. This is why I have Sim do these scenes. Sim can spend all his time having sex. I have work to do.

  I pull her up off the desk. Her face is flushed, her eyes still glazed over with desire.

  “My lord,” she whispers. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t tempt you that way.”

  If she were to do that again, he would turn her over his knee and spank her until she couldn’t sit for a week. Those words are amongst the pages strewn across my office floor.

  “No, Caterine.”

  “Please. When I read that scene … all I’ve been able to think about since is lying across your knee.”

  I close my eyes against just that very image. “Has Sim been …”

  “Not Sim. You, Alaric. Charles.”

  She grabs my hands and places them on her luscious ass. Already I can imagine her skin warming beneath my palms.

  “Please.”

  I fall back into the chair, pulling her with me. I flip her over my knee. “Tell me when to stop.”

  28

  Caterine

  I hurry down the hallway to the kitchen, buttoning up the wrinkled dress as I go. Alaric practically shoved me out of the office.

  “If you don’t go, I’m going to fuck you.” His words had a desperate edge to them.

  I want him to fuck me. I wanted that when we were together in the hotel, and he had refused me then, too.

  I burst into the kitchen and run smack into Sim.

  “Whoa there.” He grabs my shoulders before I fall. He holds me away from him and looks me over. “Is everything okay?”

  “Yes,” I mutter. “Is there any coffee left?”

  “No, but you can make some while I make lunch. Is Alaric back?”

  “Yes.” I fumble with the coffee beans. “He’s in his office.”

  “Did he kick you out or something?”

  “No. Yes. Sort of.”

  Sim lifts the bag of coffee beans from my hand and pours them into the grinder.

  “Cat, Alaric is a man who doesn’t always know his own mind. Now granted, he has a more complicated mind than I do. But sometimes you have to give his mind a little shove in the
right direction.”

  He turns and cups my face in his palms, takes in my shining eyes. “Is he not giving you relief?” He shakes his head. “The other girls were able to take out their sexual frustration on me. He knows it’s hard to do the scenes for him and then have him stop them before they normally would end. But he doesn’t want me with you when we’re not working. I’ve never seen him in love with a character the way he is with Erica.”

  I grin. “That gives me an idea.” I pull Sim’s face down to mine and kiss him hard on the lips. “Thanks, Sim.”

  As I hurry from the kitchen, not waiting for the coffee, Sim’s words float behind her. “Careful, doll.” He chuckles. “I get frustrated, too.”

  I practically run down the hall toward Alaric’s office. Sim is right. Alaric might refuse Caterine Schwartz, but he would do anything for Erica. I knock lightly on the door.

  “Busy!” comes Alaric’s voice from within.

  I push ahead, turning the knob and opening the door. When I step inside, I’m greeted with the sight of a scowling Alaric hurriedly tucking himself back into his cargo shorts. I don’t let the expression on his face stop me. I stride over to his desk and kneel between his knees, reach for his zipper.

  “I think Charles would fantasize about this,” I say quietly as I open Alaric’s shorts.

  “No, Caterine.”

  “Yes, my lord.”

  Alaric isn’t wearing anything beneath his shorts and I gently pull him out. He’s still hard. I run my thumb around the crown, enjoying the low hiss that slides from his lips.

  “Tell me what Charles was thinking about a minute ago.” I run my finger down the bulging blue vein. “When he’s sitting in his study all alone, where does his mind wander to?”

  “I’m going to regret this,” Alaric groans above me.

  “It’s just a fantasy, remember? It’s not actually happening.”

  He laughs lightly. “You’re a very persuasive woman, did you know that?”

  It’s my turn to laugh. “In Charles’ fantasy, how much persuasion does Erica need? Does he need to force her, or would he rather she be willing?” I cup Alaric’s balls, as if weighing them in my hand, and sneak a glance up at his face. His eyes are closed, his head rolled back on his neck.